


Accept it

by teskodanceparty



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-25
Updated: 2012-02-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 17:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/346571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teskodanceparty/pseuds/teskodanceparty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was used to taking care of it herself, no matter what ‘it’ happened to be. So when he stops her hands on his belt buckle, she frowns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accept it

She didn’t so much as fall into bed with him as slam the door shut behind them and shove him down onto the mattress. She doesn’t waste time, never seems to have the luxury. She tears his shirt open, buttons scattering across the hardwood floor. She exhales against the side of his neck, mouths her way down his chest and back up again. She stops, mouth hovering over a spot on his collarbone she’d learned was especially sensitive if she sucked or bit down just right.

She could feel his breath going out in fast little rushes of air, feel it rustling her hair as she kisses up to his cheek and bites down. Can hear the edge of panic that was always there when they did this. it used to frustrate her. Now she just tones down the aggression a bit and keeps going. his hands clatter, the sound muffled against the sheets under him as he tries to move them, lift them to hold her maybe. She smiled up at him, chuckling as he panted.

She was used to taking care of it herself, no matter what ‘it’ happened to be. So when he stops her hands on his belt buckle, she frowns. She starts to open her mouth, to tell him to back down. He takes a breath and murmurs, “let me- let me do it.”

She sits back between his legs, her feet pulled under her and lets him. She knows he can, has seem him fiddle with his collar when he’s nervous because to do anything else would lose him the use of his hands all over again and he actually likes them even if they aren’t real. they are his. She hasn’t known him long enough to know what he was like when he had his own hands or when he didn’t have them but she knows this, so she waits.

He grumbles to himself as he pulls his belt free (in record time, she’ll have to remind him of that later), and the look he gives her than is enough. she surges forward, throwing her shirt off, letting it fall to the floor somewhere. She presses her body against his hard enough for them both to whimper.

She doesn’t think, doesn’t pay enough attention to one thing. It all ends up a blur of hands cold on her hips, his lip between his teeth, scratching down his sides hard enough to draw blood, murmuring his name.

They end up like they always do, sitting at the bar. he’s got a seltzer and she’s downing shots with Piney and no one notices or mentions the bite mark you can see on his chest when he moves just right or the flush in her cheeks or the fact that her shirt is on inside out.

When he kisses her goodnight she frowns against his mouth.

“I fucking hate it when you do that.” she growls and kisses him like she does everything else, with as much of her as she can put into it.

He smiles and its quiet for a second before he leans in and says “I accept that.”


End file.
